Chapter 2 - The photograph lay face-up on the carpet.I stared at it until my eyes hurt.
That was me.
Seven months pregnant.
Asleep beneath the same blue blanket.
And standing beside my bed was a man I had never seen before.
Dad picked up the photograph.
"Who is he?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know."
Ryan suddenly stepped toward us.
"That's probably security."
Dad looked at him.
"Security?"
Ryan hesitated.
"Yes."
"Your security?"
"Of course."
Dad's eyes sharpened.
"Then why don't you recognize him?"
Ryan said nothing.
Linda interrupted.
"Vincent, this is ridiculous. You're upsetting Emily."
Dad turned.
"My daughter is already bruised from head to toe."
Linda lowered her voice.
"She wasn't beaten."
Dad stared at her.
"Then what happened?"
Linda folded her arms.
"She fell."
Dad smiled.
It wasn't a pleasant smile.
"Twice?"
Linda froze.
Dad flipped through the photographs.
One showed me against the bathroom wall.
Another showed Ryan gripping my wrist.
Another showed Linda standing outside my bedroom while I cried.
But the last photograph was different.
It showed a hospital corridor.
A nurse stood beside my wheelchair.
Ryan was talking to someone in a dark suit.
And behind them stood Dr. Adrian Cole.
Dad studied the image.
"Why was your doctor meeting this man?"
Ryan shook his head.
"I don't know."
Dad handed the photograph to the suited man.
"Find out."
"Already did."
The man pulled out his phone.
"Adrian Cole's private clinic received six transfers from Ryan's company."
Ryan stared at him.
"That's impossible."
The man turned the screen around.
"It happened."
Ryan looked at the numbers.
His face changed.
Dad noticed.
"So you do know."
Ryan swallowed.
"No."
Dad stepped closer.
"You just looked at the exact payment that scared you."
Ryan backed away.
"I can explain."
"Later."
Dad turned toward me.
"Can you stand?"
I tried.
Pain shot through my ribs.
My knees gave out.
Dad caught me.
He held me carefully, as if I were still his little girl.
"I'm taking you to the hospital."
Ryan moved forward.
"No."
Dad looked at him.
Ryan tried again.
"The doctor said she shouldn't be moved."
Dad's expression hardened.
"Your doctor?"
Ryan hesitated.
"Yes."
Dad looked at the nurse who had quietly entered the room.
She had come with the three men.
"Get an ambulance."
Ryan immediately grabbed her arm.
She pulled free.
"Don't touch me."
Dad's men moved forward.
Ryan backed away.
For the first time, I saw real fear in his face.
Not anger.
Not arrogance.
Fear.
Dad noticed too.
"Interesting."
He looked at Ryan.
"You are afraid of the hospital."
Ryan shook his head.
"No."
Dad nodded slowly.
"Then why?"
Ryan couldn't answer.
Linda suddenly screamed.
"Because someone is trying to kill us!"
Silence.
She covered her mouth.
Ryan turned toward her.
"Mom."
But it was too late.
Dad stared at her.
"Who?"
Linda didn't respond.
Dad stepped closer.
"Who is trying to kill you?"
She began trembling.
"Nobody."
"Then why did you say it?"
Linda looked at me.
For one strange second, I saw something in her eyes.
Not hatred.
Fear.
"Because..." she whispered.
A loud crash exploded from the kitchen.
Everyone turned.
One of Dad's men ran inside.
Then another.
A second later, someone shouted:
"Window!"
Dad grabbed my hand.
"Stay behind me."
We moved toward the hallway.
Glass covered the floor.
The kitchen window had been shattered.
There was no one outside.
Only a small black object sitting on the counter.
Dad's man picked it up carefully.
"It's a camera."
Dad stared.
Ryan went white.
Dad looked at him.
"You said there were no cameras in this apartment."
Ryan swallowed.
"There aren't."
Dad's eyes moved toward the ceiling.
Then to the walls.
Then to the smoke detector.
He walked toward it.
Removed the cover.
And froze.
Inside was another tiny camera.
Then another.
And another.
The apartment was full of them.
Watching every room.
Every hour.
Every argument.
Every scream.
Dad looked at me.
"Emily."
I couldn't breathe.
"Who installed these?"
Ryan remained silent.
Dad turned.
"Ryan."
His voice became dangerously calm.
"Who was recording my daughter?"
Ryan looked at the cameras.
Then at Linda.
Finally, he whispered:
"It wasn't for me."
Dad stared.
"Then for whom?"
Ryan's answer was barely audible.
"For the baby's father."
My blood ran cold.
Because Ryan was supposed to be the baby's father.
And I suddenly remembered something I had tried very hard to forget.
The night I first became afraid of my own husband.
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The night Ryan looked at my pregnancy test and asked me one question.
"Are you absolutely sure the baby is mine?"
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